


Pirates of the True Sea

by whats_up_zoya



Category: Nikolai Series - Leigh Bardugo, Six of Crows Series - Leigh Bardugo, The Grisha Trilogy - Leigh Bardugo
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Curse Breaking, Curses, F/M, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Inspired by Pirates of the Caribbean, Pirates, Slow Burn, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 18:14:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29546391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whats_up_zoya/pseuds/whats_up_zoya
Summary: Nikolai Lantsov, aka Sturmhond, has a problem. Cursed by the fearsome pirate, Morozova, Nikolai must seek the one treasure that can cast out his demon: The Sun Summoner.Zoya Nazyalensky wants power. Aboard Morozova’s ship of extremely questionable morals, she joins him in a quest to search for an object of legends that bring power to all who wield it.As Nikolai and Zoya’s search for the mythical Sun Summoner endures, time pressures them both into an uneasy alliance, one that leads to sword fights, betrayal, small science, and… romance? Of course not, that would be ridiculous.
Relationships: David Kostyk/Genya Safin, Kaz Brekker/Inej Ghafa, Minor or Background Relationship(s), Nikolai Lantsov/Zoya Nazyalensky
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Chapter 1

“To the gallows with this filthy pirate!” announced the governor who hovered waspishly above the crowd. His bulbous nose and ballooning figure glared down from the balcony to said pirate.

“Privateer, actually,” said Nikolai Lantsov with a tight voice as he struggled against the coarse rope that burned around his neck. Death by hanging was  _ not  _ the way any pirate should go, especially one as respected as Sturmhond. Stormchaser. Prince of the Seas. Demon Prince. He had many names, but that was beside the point. The gallows were no respectable place to die, especially not with a murderous demon trapped inside one’s heart. 

_ Release me.  _ Nikolai felt the creature stir inside the chambers of his chest, scratching lightly at the sinew and muscle. 

_ No.  _ He knew that if the monster was released, it would kill everyone in the square. He glanced around quickly, estimating about one hundred people. One hundred people were waiting for him to break like a pathetic little twig. Unfortunately, the monster knew this as well and he felt it grin. His traitorous heart jumped as the claws tightened around it. 

_ Let me take control and I can save us. I can save you,  _ it said. Nikolai gritted his teeth, ignoring the call of darkness and evil. 

_ I hate you.  _ At this, the demon smiled. 

_ I am the pirate and the pirate is me, Sobachka.  _

“Any last words, Sturmhond?” growled the executioner. Trying to remain human, Nikolai answered thoughtfully, banishing any indication of a curse out of his mind. He missed the cerulean waters, the taste of fine liquor, and the salty smell of the ship. His undignified week in the cellars had dulled his golden skin and his disguised red hair became almost a reddish gold. Not to mention it left him smelling like old rainwater left to dry in a stable cleaned with manure. It was not one of his finer moments. 

“Got any kvas?” he asked and was silently thankful to hear a few snickers from the crowd. “I’m rather parched.” 

“Argh.” spat the executioner at his feet. Nikolai spotted several gnats and mosquitoes caught in his gnarled peppery beard. “Death to the pirate then,” he said, placing his hand on the lever. Nikolai felt the anticipation of the people and prayed to his Saints. 

_ I didn’t think it would end like this.  _ Nikolai closed his eyes, waiting for the snap of the lever and the subsequent snap of his neck. 

Suddenly the executioner cried out in pain and a shriek followed from somewhere among the masses. Nikolai’s eyes shot open and he was met with two stormy blue eyes. The figure was hooded, dressed in black and gold, flew across the platform wielding a silver sword. The mysterious savior struck down the executioner with swift ease. Nikolai watched wildly as the townspeople darted like guppies to avoid the falling bodies of soldiers onto the square. He took in a sharp inhale as the feral eyes of the stranger faced him, sword raised over their hooded head. He forced himself not to flinch as the figure sliced the sword over him, severing the rope that suspended him in two. 

Nikolai dropped to his knees, gagging, and felt a small but firm hand grip his shoulder. He was free. The figure jerked him to his feet and thrust a sword into his hand. He grabbed his hat back from a petrified soldier and placed it upon his head. 

“I’ll take that back, thank you,” he said. He took off sprinting along with the figure, boots slapping against the cobblestone street. He set his gaze ahead to the ocean, the only place he’d ever known freedom. The path was clear and straight. 

“You’re coming with me, Sturmhond.” said a smooth, feminine voice from under the veil. Nikolai squinted closer at her robes as she dragged him running through the town. A patch was sewn onto the sleeve: an eclipsed sun. The dreaded symbol of Aleksander Morozova. A mix of fear and disgust rolled through him and he snatched his arm away from his captor. 

“What does Morozova want with me?” he hissed, running towards the docks. He glanced back to find an angry group of soldiers chasing them. “That wretched pirate was the one who got me caught in the first place!” he exclaimed. The figure’s hood fell during their escape, revealing a mass of dark tresses and healthy brown skin. Her bright eyes flashed towards him. 

“Follow me and I will explain”, she said, gesturing to a gargantuan ship leaving the harbor.  _ My ship?  _ Nikolai blinked at the magnificent wooden ship that moved quickly towards the open waters.  _ The crazy woman tracked down my ship.  _ The deck of the  _ Kingfisher  _ called to him like the call of the open sea. He spotted the frantic waves of his crew, shouting and howling at him. 

They raced towards the dock, dodging and deflecting the stray bullets that flew around them. The rotted wood creaked under his feet as he approached the  _ Kingfisher.  _ The woman jumped with effortless strength and grabbed the rope that dangled patiently from the side of the ship. 

“Come aboard, Sturmhond!” cried a scar-faced woman with red hair. Nikolai brightened at the sight of her. Genya. She threw down a second rope and he grabbed a hold of it, pulling himself up. 

“Let this be a lesson to you all,” he shouted triumphantly to the soldiers who gaped at him from the edge of the dock. “No governor alive can ever catch the great Sturmhond!” 

“Curse you, Sturmhond!” shouted the Governor with a fat fist thrust into the air.  _ One curse is enough to deal with, Governor,  _ he thought bitterly. He laughed as he swung himself onto the deck and tipped his hat in the direction of the reddening Governor. He landed gracefully in front of the woman who saved him, face hardening into a mask with ease. 

“Now what to do with you?” he contemplated aloud. “You who wear the colors of Morozova.” The woman faced him defiantly, unbothered at his words. 

“Peace, Sturmhond,” she said. She cast off the black robe, uncovering a weathered blue  _ kefta.  _ Typical. Morozova’s whole crew was made up of people like her. The most powerful grisha flocked to him like how sailors were lured by sirens. He promised them riches and power and worst of all, they always believed him. Nikolai was thankful for his band of grisha that knew the truth. Some had even escaped the clutches of Morozova’s ship,  _ The Merzost,  _ like Genya and David. 

“Stormwitch,” murmured someone among the crew. 

“Stormwitch indeed,” he echoed, folding his arms. “What is your business in saving me from a most unfortunate fate?” he asked with curiosity. “Not that I’m ungrateful, of course, but I do wonder…” He leaned closer, awaiting her answer. A slight crease formed between his brows upon studying her expression. She seemed bored.  _ Bored? We just escaped flying bullets without a scratch and the woman is bored?  _

“I escaped from the pirate Morozova and went to find the greatest pirate in the True Sea. I followed whispers, rumors, stories, all to find that the great Sturmhond is hanging from a noose on some obscure island in the south,” she said with disdain.  _ You have your former captain to thank for that.  _ But of course, he couldn’t say that. One more person who knew about the curse was another person who knew of a weakness he possessed. “Obviously your reputation precedes you. Apologies if I’m a bit disappointed,” she added. Nikolai felt a sense of tension stir within the crew. He saw his friends, Tolya and Tamar, place a cautious hand on their respective weapons. 

“No, no,” he said, forcing an easy smile on his face. “ _ I  _ apologize for not living up to your expectations Miss…” 

“Nazyalensky. Zoya Nazyalensky,” she replied sourly. 

“Miss Nazyalensky. I swear I’ll spend the rest of your stay on this ship making it up to you. Sturmhond guarantee.” he said, throwing in a wink. Zoya rolled her eyes but he didn’t miss the slight lift in the corner of her mouth.  _ Interesting.  _ He walked to the upper deck, her piercing gaze trailing his movements. The wind rustled his red locks as he placed his hand on the wooden steering wheel, painted with chipped gold. “So you’re looking to join my crew I suppose?” 

“Yes,” she said. “Morozova has grown power-hungry and mad. I will serve no evil madman.” She seemed disgusted as she said his name and Nikolai knew how she felt. Maybe he could use that to his advantage. 

“Who said I wasn’t mad, darling?” he joked. His crew laughed along with him. “No worries, we are not evil here.” 

_ I would say otherwise,  _ said the demon. 

“And what do you have to offer us?” chimed in young Ivan. 

“Yeah!” 

Zoya whipped around towards the crew which recoiled at the movement.  _ They’re scared of her, aren’t they,  _ thought Nikolai. She looked wild, standing in the middle of the ship with her ebony hair whipping in the breeze. A wide berth had formed around her, leaving a large clearing between her and the rest of the crew. 

“What can I offer you?” she said, a small smile on her beautiful face. “The winds belong to me.” she declared, closing her eyes. A gust of air rocked the ship, rustling the creamy white sails. The sailors on deck made sudden grabs for the nearest steady object as dark waves churned around them. Nikolai, however, made a point to stand his ground. He planted his hands at his sides, fingers digging into the fabric of his coat. Zoya lifted off the deck like a saint ascending to the heavens. She opened her eyes, glowing a deep royal blue. “I am the Stormwitch.” Power. The woman was raw power, both literally and figuratively. Nikolai clapped politely when she finished. 

“Thank you for that lovely demonstration, Nazyalensky,” he said, leaning onto the railing of the balcony. “But we’re missing one important question.” He let his words linger in the air for a moment. “It’s perhaps the most important question of all, the one that will determine whether you stay on this ship or not.” He forced his eyes away from Zoya, who looked at him with a sense of utter disbelief. He studied his nails, ignoring the muffled laughs from his crew. 

“Spit it out, Sturmhond,” she said with some annoyance. 

“Why should we trust you?” he asked. 

“You can’t,” she said. Nikolai let out a hearty laugh.

“I’m not sure you’re helping your case,” he said. He narrowed his eyes at the girl, standing in her cerulean robes. 

“I’m simply being honest, Sturmhond,” she said. She smirked slightly as if she knew he’d already decided upon her future with the ship. “An honest pirate is hard to come by these days. And I believe that I am worth my weight in gold.” Saints, she was good. Perhaps it would be interesting to have her aboard. She was a curiosity, a mere  _ person of interest.  _ Yes, that was it. 

“Let me consult with my colleagues,” he said. “Genya, David, Tolya, and Tamar, if you would meet with me here please?” He nudged open a mahogany door behind him that led to the captain’s quarters. The four of his friends followed him inside. 

It was just as he left it. A messy pile of maps was scattered across his simple wooden desk like sand on a beach. He eyed the numerous swords leaning against the wall and picked up his favorite: a silver sword with a violet gemstone embedded into the pommel. It was a gift from a fellow pirate, a much better one than he was. He knew the Wraith was out there somewhere, being a hero to those in need. 

“I say to let her stay,” said Genya, tying back her flaming red curls. “She came to us with a way to get you out of the gallows after we’d been struggling for weeks. Granted, she didn’t reveal herself to us.” Tolya and Tamar nodded, although they exchanged a worried glance. 

“I agree with Genya,” said David while Tamar rolled her eyes. 

“Oh, of course, you do!” she said. “Nikolai, I’m not saying she has to leave, I’m wondering if we can trust her.” Nikolai palmed the sword in his hand, considering her words. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t wondering the same. Zoya Nazyalensky’s sudden appearance and motives were not as she presented them to be, that much was obvious. She could have let him swing for all she cared. And the part about him being the ‘greatest pirate in the True Sea’ was all just flattery, as much as his ego denied it. The woman was playing a game and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be part of it. 

“Tolya?” he asked. 

“Let her stay,” he said in a low voice. “And if she tries anything she’ll face the consequences.” 

“Alright,” said Nikolai. “Seems like we’ve made our decision.” He replaced the sword back on the wall and turned to the door, bursting through. The crews’ eyes snapped up to him. He made his way down to the lower deck, stopping just in front of Zoya. Her face was fixed into a frown, her lovely blue eyes boring into his. It was as if she dared him to refuse her passage aboard the ship. She possessed the passion, skills, and nerve it took to be a good pirate. And her abilities as a grisha could come in handy on his search for the Sun Summoner now that he was free. Nikolai met her with a confident smile. 

“Well then Nazyalensky,” he said, pausing for dramatic effect. “Welcome aboard the  _ Kingfisher _ .” He extended a rough scarred hand out from his teal pirate coat. Her hand clasped his and the deal was done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feat. everyone's favorite street rat

The Darkling had found her in a tavern, using gusts of wind to beat her inferni opponent into the ground. He watched her with slate-gray eyes as she was declared the victor and a small sack of gold coins was dropped into her awaiting palm. The Grisha fights weren’t illegal in the slightest but her mother had forbidden her from participating. Sabina held onto the deluded hope that Zoya would marry a decrepit, yet exceedingly rich naval officer. Anyone with lined pockets, it seemed. 

So Zoya fought her battles, lining her own pockets and her family’s to save herself from a life of subservient misery. When Sabina questioned where the money came from, Zoya simply shrugged and offered her cruel mother a suggestive smile. Best to leave it up to her mother's imagination. Many suitors still visited their house, after all, and offered their fair share of silver and gold in exchange for her hand. She led them on discreetly, keeping them around long enough so her mother wouldn’t get suspicious. 

Morozova offered her an escape. Saw her as more than a woman to be sold for money, no better than a prized stallion. He saw her power. It was all Zoya needed to dump the remnants of her coins at Sabina’s feet and march away forever. Her mother screamed at her worthlessness and wasted beauty but Zoya walked out. She visited her Aunt Liliyana’s grave one last time before following the Darkling onto the deck of the _Merzost._

Zoya sighed, shutting the door of her new quarters aboard Sturmhond’s ship. _An honest pirate,_ she thought bitterly. _There is no such thing._ Sometimes she wondered what went through her mind when she joined the Darkling, the most renowned pirate of the True Sea. There were times when she caught a glimmer of greed in his eyes, not unlike those of the wealthy men that used to visit. She questioned whether she was valued for her power or what her power could do for him. Then he would give a confident smile and the strange look was gone. 

Her quarters were small, lodged below deck with the other bedrooms. The room held a bed and a small desk that jutted out from the wall. She took out a scrap of paper and wrote in code:

Aboard the ship. 

She rolled the paper and sent it out the porthole window with a gust of air. Hopefully, the _Merzost_ trailed close enough behind for the other squallers to pick up her message. The night air was cool and fresh on her skin as she heard the merry sounds of Sturmhond’s crew above. 

Sturmhond was not what she expected, to say the least. Captain Morozova had hinted at a curse placed upon him, one that made him into a terrible beast. A monster of nightmares that stalked the seas, gnashing its sharp teeth into its victims. Morozova made the monster sound terrifying. Sturmhond was decidedly… not. She’d found him strung up by his neck, waiting to die. The most intriguing thing was that he didn’t look scared; he looked annoyed. It was as if some part of him knew that it was not yet his day to go. Surely if Sturmhond had this supposed curse he would have used it to escape? That’s what any reasonable pirate would do. But he didn’t strike Zoya as the reasonable type. 

She shut the window and crashed onto her bed, fluffing the stiff pillow as much as she could. Tomorrow Sturmhond would tell his crew the first order of business now that he was back. Zoya would report back to Morozova to confirm his suspicions. He believed that Sturmhond would go looking for the Sun Summoner. She didn’t believe it existed but her Captain sounded sure of himself. She let the waves of sleep crash over her, driving her thoughts of Sturmhond and Morozova out of her mind. 

The next morning, Zoya stood beside Genya on the upper deck, both looking up at Sturmhond who surveyed his crew from the helm. Zoya squinted up at him. It could have been a trick of the sunlight but she swore something was different about his appearance. He wore his usual coat but his hair had faded from a darker golden red to a lighter strawberry blonde. His nose was slightly straighter, rather than crooked like it was before. His eyes were the same color, at least, a muddy green. She turned to Genya, brows furrowed. 

“Does he look different to you?” she asked. If Genya knew anything, she didn’t show it. 

“Looks the same as always,” she replied, adjusting her eyepatch. Zoya found herself growing curious about how she’d lost her eye in the first place, though she never bothered to ask. 

“My friends!” exclaimed Sturmhond to his crew, a wide grin on his face. “And acquaintances,” he added, regarding Zoya. His lips thinned into a smirk and she folded her arms over her chest. 

“Oh, get on with it,” she muttered for only her and Genya to hear. 

“Does anyone know of the legendary Sol Koroleva Island?” he asked, excitement alight in his eyes. There were murmurs among the crew as Zoya straightened imperceptibly. This was what she had been waiting for. Sturmhond didn’t wait for an answer. “There is an island far out at sea,” he said in an eccentric voice. “A land made of eternal sunshine where no shadow can cross. It is said that there are riches and treasures beyond your wildest imaginations, all guarded by a mysterious being called the Blade.” He ran a scarred hand through his windswept hair, clearly enjoying the look of awe on everyone’s faces. “The Blade’s most precious treasure, however, is an object of great power.” A dramatic smile blossomed on his lips, building anticipation. Zoya knew what it was, though the Captain certainly knew how to work the crowd. She gave him credit for that much. “The Sun Summoner.” he breathed. 

“What is it?” asked a dark-haired boy, a deckhand probably. 

“No one knows, Dominik,” said David. Zoya was shocked to hear him speak but Genya beamed proudly. “No scholar can agree on exactly what it is.” 

“Ah, yes,” said Sturmhond. “I’ve heard rumors of a sword, a crystal, a book, a portal, and even a teapot, of all things,” Zoya swore internally. The fool knew nothing of what he sought, yet meant to chase after it anyway. She kept listening. 

“We’ve been commissioned by the Crown to find this island and the Sun Summoner,” said Tamar, standing next to the Captain. 

_The Crown?_ Zoya hid the look of disgust that threatened to show. In her opinion, the Lantsovs were a bunch of good for nothings who maintained the illusion of government. The King had done nothing to stop the pillaging of the islands, nothing to aid poverty-stricken villages such as her own. The Queen was a beautiful, vain woman who spent stolen riches on lavish things she didn’t deserve. Zoya recalled that there were also two Lantsov princes, Vasily and Nikolai. Vasily, she’d heard, lived a sheltered life and barely left the palace. He liked to turn up his nose on things that displeased him, mainly commoners. Nikolai Lantsov, however, had quite the reputation. He was somewhat of a heartthrob throughout Ravka, especially known for his looks, though Zoya had never seen him. She thought the youngest Lantsov was most likely spoiled rotten and not nearly as pleasant as many girls believed him to be. No one had seen him in months. He was probably off galavanting in some remote, luxurious corner of the world never to be heard from again. 

“It will be dangerous,” said Sturmhond in a serious tone. The crew was silent, hanging onto his every word.“Only the most daring and brave of us will survive the journey. Who knows what we might face: Churning tides, deadly sirens, _hidden enemies_ ,” Zoya willed herself to keep a neutral expression. Sturmhond’s boyish grin returned. “But we will face it together! Who’s with me?” he shouted, drawing his sword from its scabbard for emphasis. The crew roared in response, Zoya’s shout apart of it. 

“Tell us what to do, Captain!” said Ivan from the deck. 

“Everyone to their positions,” commanded Sturmhond. The crew scattered at his words and Zoya took her new spot manning the middle sail’s sheet. She gripped the thick rope in her hands, eyes still lingering on Sturmhond. “Be prepared to dock at Kerch,” he said. “I’ve located the whereabouts of a map to the island. It’s with a man named Kaz Brekker.” _Kaz Brekker has the map in Kerch._ Zoya shelved the information away for her next message to the Darkling. 

An hour had passed but Zoya focused on her task, switching sides when necessary and helping adjust the sail. She wondered how she would get the message over to the _Merzost_ tonight, as the winds were much calmer than the day before. 

“So what do you think, Nazyalensky?” Zoya whipped around as she faced Sturmhond, his voice pulling her out of her thoughts. 

“The Sun Summoner?” she said, keeping her tone casual. “Do you think it exists?” 

“There’s a map isn’t there?” he countered. “I think it’s worth a shot.” There was a hint of desperation in his voice, almost unnoticeable. But it was there, and it was a mistake that revealed himself to her. _He’s trying to get rid of the curse,_ she thought. The Crown commission was just an excuse. _A place where no shadow can cross._ She put on her most feline smile and tilted her head. 

“Now what’s the real reason you’re after the Sun Summoner?” she asked. Maybe she could pry it out of him and confirm her suspicions. 

“What do you mean?” he said. “We were commissioned by the Crown.” 

“Oh right, _the Crown,_ ” she drawled. “They’d never spend this many resources on something that has such little guaranteed return.” Sturmhond raised a brow. 

“You still don’t think it’s real then?” he asked. “Don’t worry, Nazyalensky. I’ll make a believer out of you yet.” 

“Sure,” she said sarcastically. 

“And you’re not a fan of the royal family, I see,” he said. “Surely they can’t all be bad? I hear the youngest prince, Nikolai Lantsov, is quite popular.”

“Just because he’s popular doesn’t mean he’s not as selfish and greedy as the others,” she said. “Well, I can’t truly speak to his character, as I’ve never met him.” She huffed under her breath, averting her eyes from Sturmhond. “He’s probably off doing saints knows what, lounging around and drinking lavish wine in a foreign country.” Sturmhond burst into a laugh. She tried not to look amused but his smile was contagious. “What’s so funny?” she asked. 

“Lounging around and drinking wine?” he laughed again. “So, you think he’s some sort of… drunk playboy?” Zoya frowned, suddenly feeling like he knew something she didn’t. 

“A little,” she said. Sturmhond gave her a look. “Yes.”

“You know, I think Nikolai would like you,” he said, casually examining his nails. Zoya froze. _Did I just badmouth the prince in front of his friend?_

“Of course you know him,” she said with a flat tone. She tossed an annoyed look at Sturmhond. He was clearly enjoying himself. “You tell me what he’s really like, then.” 

“Nikolai is very charming,” he said, giving her a fox-like grin. “And handsome too, not unlike myself,” he added with a wink. 

“Well if he’s anything like you, it’s no wonder that you two would get along,” she said. “Honestly, I don’t think I- _the world-_ could handle two of you.” 

“Two of me? I’m one of a kind, Nazyalensky.” 

“Get that grin off your face,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. _Insufferable,_ she thought. _But also amusing._

“Yes ma’am,” he gave her a mock salute and walked away, still smiling. Zoya shook her head, fastening her grip back on the rope she was supposed to be holding. 

* * *

“She called you a _what_?” Genya’s jaw dropped and Nikolai laughed again. 

“I know right!” he exclaimed. “I implied that I was a friend of Nikolai’s and you should’ve seen the look on her face.” They were nearly at Kerch and Nikolai had retired to the Captain’s cabin for a moment to rest. 

“Are you going to tell her?” asked David. Nikolai waved a hand. 

“Eventually,” he said. “We need to see if she can be trusted, first. I’m planning to take her with us to meet Kaz.” 

“Isn’t he that friend of Inej?” asked Genya. “I swear I’ve heard the name before.”

“I think he is,” said Nikolai. “Hopefully that will work in our favor, but I’ve never actually met him.” 

“Nikolai, your hair is turning blonde again,” she said suddenly. “I haven’t tailored your appearance in ages, and I’m not sure how it lasted through your stay in prison.” She rushed toward the stack of cabinets opposite his messy desk. “David! Help me look for my kit.” David shrugged and went to help her rummage through the numerous trinkets that littered the shelves. 

“Tamar is out steering the ship and we are approaching Kerch’s port,” said Tolya. “Should I tell her to dock while you’re being tailored?”

“No need, my friend,” he said. “I only need a couple of touch-ups and I’ll be out right away.” Tolya nodded and exited the cabin. 

“Here,” said Genya, holding her kit. “I can’t believe I’d forgotten,” she muttered while working over him. “Zoya had asked me if something looked off and that’s when I remembered.” She darkened his hair to a deep red and pronounced the bump on his nose, making it more crooked. “That should do for now,” she said. 

“Thanks, Genya,” he said. Nikolai picked up the sword Inej had gifted him and replaced it in the scabbard at his hip. He walked out of the cabin, followed by Genya and David, and took the wheel from Tamar. He glanced at his crew scattered around the ship. 

“We should keep a closer eye on Zoya,” said Tamar. “Her position as of now is too removed from us.” 

“I agree,” said Nikolai. “I’ll promote her to boatswain so she’ll report directly to one of us. She seems familiar enough with the workings of a ship.” 

“She was apart of Morozova’s crew,” said Genya sympathetically. “They’re trained to function in every position on the ship for maximum efficiency. And it means that everyone is replaceable.” Nikolai shuddered. It’d been a year and a half since he was cursed aboard the _Merzost_ , its wretched captain dressed in silver and black. Morozova had watched Nikolai writhe on the deck, eyes full of malice, as the darkness invaded him. Thankfully he’d never run into the pirate since then. 

“Nazyalensky!” he called. Her black hair was bound back by a single blue ribbon. How she managed to look so put together all the time was beyond him. She handed the sheet off to another crewmate and headed up the stairs to the helm. 

“Captain,” she regarded warily. 

“How would you like to be promoted to boatswain?” he asked. Her blue eyes widened in shock. 

“I’ve only been here for a day,” she said. 

“You looked bored handling the sheet all day,” he replied. “Plus Genya here informed me of the training aboard the _Merzost._ You’re more than qualified to handle a position of command.” Her eyes met Genya’s with a questioning look. 

“David and I used to sail with Morozova too before we escaped,” Genya explained. “Must have been before you arrived. How long were you there?” 

“A year,” Zoya said softly. 

“If you ever want to talk about it, I’ll be there to listen.” Genya smiled reassuringly and Zoya nodded. Nikolai’s stomach curdled at the thought of what Zoya must have had to endure under the Darkling’s control. The man was drawn to power and she exuded it. 

“Do you accept the position?” he asked.

“Yes.” 

“Great! Now then,” he said, turning his attention towards the rest of the ship. His hands were gripped firmly on the steering wheel as they turned into Kerch’s port. “Attention! We have reached our destination. Prepare to dock.” At once, his crew scrambled around the ship to obey his orders. 

Ketterdam was Kerch’s main port and happened to be the home of Kaz Brekker. Nikolai lowered the wooden plank onto the dock and walked off the ship, setting his eyes to the island city beyond. 

“Captain,” said Tamar, pointing at the end of the dock. From the grey emerged a tall man -no- a boy in a long black coat. He used a cane with a handle in the shape of a crow’s head in one hand as he approached them. He had dark brown hair and a pale complexion, untouched by the sun. He stopped in front of Nikolai, inspecting him with cruel brown eyes. The boy’s face was young, but it was all sharp angles and lines. Kaz Brekker. 

“Sturmhond,” he said, face breaking into an unnatural, devilish smile. “Welcome to Ketterdam.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm continuing with this story but updates will probably be sporadic lol. ty for the nice comments I love y'all sm <3


End file.
